When You Walked Back Into My Life (23 page)

It was nearly midday when she woke, the bed empty beside her.

She padded through to the sitting room to find Fin in his usual position on the sofa. He got up to make her some coffee. As she related the events of the night, he kept shaking his head.

‘Poor you. You’re exhausted and you have to go back to work tomorrow. I thought you said you’d be able to sleep.’

‘It was unusual last night. She was ill.’

‘But you look terrible. I think next time Mary wants a night off you should ask the agency to sort it.’

‘Please, can we not have another conversation about the iniquities of my job? It doesn’t help.’

He looked at her as if he were battling with a decision about whether to go on arguing or not.

‘No, you’re right. Sorry. We’re together, that’s all that
matters.’ He came towards her, holding his hand out to her as she sat on the sofa. ‘Why don’t you go back to bed for a bit?’

But she couldn’t respond because she suddenly felt really nauseous. She held her breath, waiting, hoping that it would go away.

‘Flo?’

She heard his voice as if from a long way away as she made a dash for the bathroom, where she was violently sick.

Fin was right behind her. ‘Flo … Flo, are you alright?’

She groaned. ‘God … I don’t know where that came from.’

He hovered over her. ‘You’ve probably got Dorothea’s bug.’

‘I bloody hope not.’ She filled the tooth mug with water and rinsed her mouth out. ‘I still feel sick.’

‘You’d better get back to bed.’

He tucked her in and sat beside her, his expression contrite. ‘I didn’t mean to hassle you … I just look forward to the weekends with you so much.’

‘I look forward to them too. This weekend was an exception. It won’t happen again.’

‘I was just being childish.’

He was searching her face, looking for forgiveness, and she was willing to give it. She took his hand and kissed it. But she knew it was increasingly a pattern between them.
He would pick a fight, she would get upset, he would apologise. She lay back, holding her stomach, waiting for the nausea to go away. She didn’t want to live like this, and she knew he didn’t either.

*

Dorothea was not looking much better when she arrived for work. The fever had abated and her cheeks were no longer flushed, but now she looked chalk-white and listless.

Flora let her stay in bed again. She had little appetite, but Flora poached some haddock for her lunch, just in case. She laid the fish in the saucepan with a little milk and put it on to boil, but when she took the lid off the pan, she was suddenly overcome with nausea again and had to rush off to the bathroom. She wasn’t actually sick, but she retched repeatedly over the toilet bowl. She felt cold and shaky and leant against the basin for support. The bell rang. She dragged herself to the door, cursing.

‘God, you look like death!’ Dr Kent immediately took her by the elbow and steered her into the sitting room, pushing her gently onto the sofa.

‘I felt sick, but I wasn’t sick. Just retching.’

She sank gratefully against the cushions, gave him a rueful smile.

‘I’d better call Rene, get another nurse on board,’ he said. ‘Do you have her number?’

Flora nodded. ‘Listen, I’ll be OK in a minute. It happened at the weekend as well, and I was completely fine later.’

‘Do you have a headache, sore throat?’ He sat by her and took her pulse, laid his palm against her forehead.

‘No … nothing.’

‘You don’t seem feverish. He was looking at her questioningly. ‘Umm …’

‘Umm what?’

‘Just a thought … might you be pregnant?’

‘Pregnant?’ The word fell like a whisper between them, carried away by the sheer improbability of the idea.

‘Only a suggestion.’

‘I can’t be.’

Simon Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘“Can’t be” as in totally out of the question? Or “can’t be” as in I can’t believe I am?’

Flora thought back to that one night in Scotland when they hadn’t had a condom. He didn’t come inside her, but still …’

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks.

‘It is possible, I suppose.’

‘Have your periods been normal?’ He was being very professional with her, his expression neutral.

She thought back. ‘No … but then they never are, haven’t been for a few years now. I had a slight bleed a couple of weeks ago, but now I think about it, it wasn’t a proper
period.’

He got up. ‘Perhaps you should take a test.’

She stared at him, remembering the dancing, the odd moment between them on Saturday night. But his face was shut down, she had no idea what he was thinking.

‘You should definitely call Rene and get another nurse. You can’t work if you’re feeling nauseous all the time.’

‘I’ll call her in a minute,’ Flora told him, knowing that she wouldn’t. She didn’t want to go home yet, not until she knew for certain.

‘Would it be good news?’ Dr Kent was asking.

‘Yes,’ she said quickly. ‘No … well … it’s not brilliant timing.’

The doctor looked as if he were waiting for her to say more, but she couldn’t speak, she was just holding onto herself, almost breathless.

She thought he said he would look in on the old lady, and she thought he called goodbye, but she was in too much of a daze to know for certain.

*

‘Just nipping to the chemist,’ Flora told Keith. She had waited till she was sure the doctor was well away before checking on Dorothea, then grabbing her purse and her coat. She felt cold with shock, her heart fluttering uncomfortably in her chest.

‘How’s Miss H-T getting on then? Haven’t seen her about since last week.’

‘Got the flu.’ She was dying to just get the kit, do the test, stop the unbearable suspense. But the porter was in a conversational mood.

‘She’s a tough old bird … bit of flu’s not going to bother her for long. You don’t get to ninety by being a wuss.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, better get on. Don’t want her waking up when I’m not there. You OK?’

Keith grinned. ‘Bloody marvellous is the truth. Got a gorgeous woman in my bed at last!’

‘Way too much information, thanks!’ His chuckle followed her to the main door.

She gazed blankly at the boxes of pregnancy test kits, going over and over in her mind the number of weeks since that night in Scotland. Five and a bit, if you didn’t count from the most recent period, which had only lasted two days. She grabbed the most prominent brand and went to pay for it, suddenly flustered in front of the girl at the till, self-conscious about the implications of her purchase. The girl merely scanned the box through.

‘Like a bag?’ She asked in a bored monotone.

Flora nodded, not wanting Keith to see what she was carrying.

When she got back to the flat, Dorothea was awake and ringing the little bell by her bed.

‘Sorry, I had to pop out for something. How are you feeling?’

‘I think … very tired.’ She tried to sit up. ‘I need to get out.’

For the next hour, Flora was tied up with her patient. It wasn’t until Dorothea was settled again, a cup of weak tea beside her bed, that she had time to go to the bathroom.

Scrabbling with the packet, giving a hurried glance at the instructions, she peed on the stick, watching the tip go pink. She checked her watch. Two minutes, they said. The second-hand pottered agonisingly slowly around the face. But as she sat on the edge of the bath, her eyes darting between her watch and the small results window on the white plastic wand, she was certain beyond any doubt that what she’d see would be a clear blue plus sign.

17 December

Rene’s voice nattered on as she sat beside the bed, holding her friend’s hand. Dorothea had been asleep most of the afternoon and looked to Flora as if she wanted to go to sleep again.

‘It’s been a bit of a nightmare day. I had a terrible argument with Alan about the clematis – the gorgeous pink one along the bottom fence, remember? He claims it’s on its last legs, but he’s always such a Jonah about my plants, even though he’s employed to look after them. He wants to rip it out, plant a new one. But it’s been there since we got the house, twenty-seven years ago. I’m not letting it go without a fight …’

‘Oh dear,’ Dorothea muttered. ‘So what will you do?’

‘As little as possible. I said he was on no account to touch it. I know it wasn’t at its best this summer, but the weather’s been so strange. I said we should leave it another year, see how it goes. But he’s so bad tempered about it.’

‘Perhaps you should find another gardener?’ Dorothea suggested mildly, looking as if she were struggling to get involved in the conversation. She had Flora’s sympathy. As she finished massaging E45 cream into the dry skin on the old lady’s legs, pulling the bed covers back into place, her own thoughts were in turmoil; the precious secret buzzing round her, threatening to burst into the open at any moment.

Rene was shaking her head vehemently. ‘Heavens, no, I can’t do that. He’s Christine’s cousin. I’d never hear the last of it if I sacked him.’

The old lady said nothing, probably, like Flora, having no idea who Christine was and not having the energy to ask.

‘Anyway, my dear, I must love you and leave you, get back home and put the supper on. Rosie’s coming round with her latest beau.’ Rene rolled her eyes. ‘Hope he’s more articulate than the last one.’ She bent to kiss Dorothea on the cheek. ‘So nice to see you a bit better today. I’ll try and pop in again tomorrow.’

Dorothea smiled up at her friend. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said.

Flora went with Rene to the front door.

‘What do you think?’ Rene asked.

‘She’s weak, and still very tired, but she doesn’t have a fever any more. I think Dr Kent caught it in time.’

‘What a gem he is,’ Rene said. ‘I can’t believe how much attention he pays her. He’s always round here, and he’s not even private. We’re so lucky to have him.’

*

Flora heard the main door of the flats slam behind her at the end of her shift with a huge sigh of relief. Now she could think. She walked up Gloucester Road instead of taking the bus. It was mild for December, a light sleet making the pavements oily. She welcomed the cool, damp night air on her face.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she kept whispering to herself like a mad woman. ‘I’m pregnant.’ But the words made no sense. She had wanted a baby for so long.

But hard on the heels of her euphoria came the cold hard facts of her situation: living on what amounted to her sister’s charity, in a tiny flat, with an unemployed climber who was reluctant to have children. Not to mention the perils of actually keeping the pregnancy at her age. How will Fin react? she wondered, her stomach knotted with nerves as she trod down the slippery area steps to her flat.

Fin was frowning in front of the television, the volume
muted. He smiled at her as she came in. ‘This stuff is such crap,’ he said, yawning, and stretching his long arms towards the ceiling. ‘I don’t know how they have the bloody nerve to make these ludicrous shows in the first place.’

She laughed. ‘Why watch it, then?’

‘Bugger all else to do.’ He got up and gave her a kiss. ‘I saw Prue today,’ he went on. ‘She was banging on about Christmas. Says it’s going to be about twelve of us.’

‘Usually is.’ She took off her coat and hung it on the stand. ‘Did she say who she’s got lined up for us this year?’

Fin shook his head. ‘Bound to be hideous. I was thinking … suppose we go up to Scotland instead? If Mary’s going to be there, you’ve got at least five days off if you include the weekend. It would be better than making nice to your sister’s pompous friends.’

Flora thought of his father’s house, freezing in December, the damp sheets, the musty smell, the avocado-coloured bath, but she decided not to have the argument with him just now.

‘Fin. Sit down. I’ve got something to tell you.’

The discontent and lethargy on Fin’s face was immediately replaced by a wary interest. ‘Go on.’

‘Sit down first,’ she repeated, receiving a puzzled frown from Fin. He threw himself back on the sofa and looked at her impatiently as she settled herself in the chair opposite,
trying to find the right words. But her nerves wouldn’t stand prevarication.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said flatly.

‘Pregnant?’

‘Yes. I did a test this afternoon.’

He stared at her in silence.

‘Say something,’ she urged.

‘It can’t be mine.’

‘Fin! Of course it’s yours. Who else’s could it be?’

Fin shrugged. ‘That man you were seeing before I pitched up? You had sex with him presumably?’ His voice was flat with tension.

‘Once. But that was months ago, and we used a condom.’

He got up and started pacing around behind the sofa. ‘So do we. Every time. And the only time we didn’t, I didn’t come inside you. There’s no way it can be mine. You said yourself it wasn’t possible, that night in Scotland.’

Flora realised she was shaking. She hadn’t expected him to be overjoyed, but to deny he was the father?

‘I said it was unlikely, not impossible.’

Fin shook his head but didn’t say anything.

She got up. ‘Fin. This is your baby. The test says I’m only five weeks gone.’

‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘Nor can I. But it
is
your baby.’ She went over to him and took his hands. His gaze was bewildered.

‘OK, OK … I believe you.’

They stood silently, staring at each other. His patent lack of enthusiasm clutched at her heart.

‘I know it’s not great timing, but … I …’ She could feel the stress of the day finally catching up with her, tears gathering hotly behind her eyes.

‘Sorry, sorry.’ He pulled her into an embrace. ‘It’s just a massive shock for me.’

‘It is for me too, but I’m still happy.’ Was this true, she wondered. She was dazed, incredulous, but she realised she had waited to enjoy the moment until she’d spoken to Fin.

‘Come over here,’ Fin pulled her across to the sofa, sitting her down and holding her close against him. ‘It’s great, amazing. I was trying to think it through, that’s all. I’m just not sure how we’re going to manage when you can’t work any more … three of us cooped up in this tiny flat.’ He glanced down at her. ‘It’s going to be hard.’